Draco's Quite Large Dilemma
by tout-a-coup
Summary: Draco gets dumped and must find a way back into the arms of his beloved. Featuring a bit of screaming, Brilliant Plans, and some very vindictive Slytherins. HD slash, rated for language... mostly. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter. JK Rowling and her cool publishing friends do. I'm not one of her cool publishing friends. I make no money!**

**A/N: Holy moly, here I am. Finally posting my fanfiction. Siiigh. It's been a long and winding road, etcetera. I can hear all my friends laughing at me, and they're well entitled to it. Anyway, I suppose I have to thank my three USELESS betas, Liz, Lauren, and Annie. Continually blurring the line between proofreader and cheerleader. Other than that, a job well done to me, and a kowtow to Rhysenn for showing me those many years ago how very fun it can be to make innocent characters do naughty things.**

**Chapter the First**

"He dumped me!"

Pansy Parkinson rolled her eyes as several people dropped their silverware in surprise. Draco was indulging his dramatic side again, just in time for dinner.

"Harry-bloody-Potter dumped _me_! How in Merlin's name is that possible!"

Much of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was wondering the same thing. After all, it was a well-known fact that Draco wore the proverbial pants in the relationship. In fact, Draco had always been a bit…cold, where Harry was concerned. He was a bit cold about most things, but one would think that his own boyfriend would get to see some hidden intimate, romantic Draco. Apparently not.

Pansy shrugged. "Maybe because you treated him like shit."

Draco scoffed. "I did not." Did he? No. Pansy was off her rocker. Jealous, most likely. Wench.

Blaise, who had been eavesdropping rather shamelessly, chimed in. "Yeah, you did. Hermione was congratulating him on having done the right thing, earlier."

That fucking Granger. She'd probably put Harry up to it in the first place. Her and her stupid Weasel, always mucking about in Harry's business. Draco couldn't understand why they couldn't just exchange saliva without wanting to fix things for dearest _Harry_. Gods, could that boy have picked more annoying friends?

"DRACO! Are you even listening to me?" Pansy was looking a little irritated. Apparently she'd said something. Draco made a face. "Well _fine_, if you're going to be a git, I won't _give _you my advice."

Draco clutched at his heart melodramatically. "Oh Merlin, whatever shall I do without your guidance!"

"Well you don't have to be sarcastic about it," said Pansy huffily. With that, she got up and stormed three seats away, and sat down next to Millicent Bullstrode, who was currently looking for something to consume or destroy. Fucking Millicent. Fucking Pansy.

"Stupid bint," Draco muttered. He then turned calmly to Blaise, who was stifling giggles. "What were you saying, Blaise?"

Blaise attempted to straighten his face. "Well, I was in the Gryff common room—"

"Don't call them the _Gryffs_. You sound like an idiot."

"Alright, fine. I was in the _Gryffindor_ common room after breakfast…"

Draco didn't even bother to say anything snide about cavorting with the enemy—Blaise was an honorary Gryffindor these days, seeing as how he was generally considered the most approachable Slytherin, and he was dating Seamus Finnigan. Of course, anyone who knew anything about their relationship knew that the only appropriate term for it was _fucking_, because that's what they did, day in, day out. Draco thought he ought to be grateful that they spent most of their time in Gryffindor Tower, because from what he'd heard, Finnigan was a screamer. Then again, he'd heard _he _was a screamer too, but that was probably just Blaise being a git. Fucking Blaise.

"DRACO! For Merlin's sake, I'm trying to gossip about your ex-boyfriend!"

"Don't call it _gossiping_, that makes us sound so poncey."

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Draco, you're the biggest ponce in the entire school. And you _love_ to gossip. So be quiet and listen!"

"Yes, fine. Keep going. The last thing I heard was that you were in the Gryffindor common room after breakfast." And for the record, Blaise was _way_ poncier than Draco.

"What! Well, now I have to tell the whole damn thing again! So. I was in the Gryffindor common room after breakfast, y'know, and Harry'd just dumped you in front of the entire Great Hall—"

"Well I know that part! I was there!"

"Oh, right. Well anyway, I was sitting with Seamus on one of those big chairs they have—we ought to get some of those in the dungeons, they're quite good for snogging—and Harry comes in all blotchy-eyed like he'd been crying and his hair was all tousled and his tie was undone and he looked pretty hot, now that I think of it—"

"I hate you."

"OH! Sorry. Anyway, er, so he's standing in the portrait hole wallowing in his misery and all that, and Hermione gets up and goes over to him and brings him in and says to him 'Oh Harry, don't feel bad, it's for the best, you'll see.'"

Fucking Granger. Draco would see to it that the one-and-a-half remaining years at Hogwarts were absolute hell for her. That know-it-all cow. Blaise was still speaking, Draco noticed, and figured he'd better pay attention or he'd get yelled at again.

"So she brings him over and sits him down in the chair across from Seamus and me and sits down next to him…"

Draco sneered. She probably had her arm around him and everything. What a slut. Fucking Granger.

"And Ron comes over and pats him on the back and says, 'Cheer up mate, he was a git anyway.'"

Ron-fucking-Weasley. Draco hated Ron Weasley more than every other Gryffindor combined, including the Creepy Creeveys. Ron Weasley's head was so fat Draco wondered how he got it through doors. Weasley was truly an idiot, it wasn't just Draco being mean, which he admitted he could be at times. Weasley was just braindead, any way you looked at it. Draco had told Harry this on numerous occasions, and somehow it always ended with Harry yelling and Draco not getting any sex for a week. He'd learned not to bring it up after a while.

"So now all of sixth year Gryffindor was crowded around Harry, consoling him," Blaise continued, "Well, except for Seamus, he was trying to get his hand up my shirt, and I was trying to get him to pay attention, but then he started tickling me and—"

"Christ, Blaise, I asked you to tell me why you thought I'd been treating him badly, not to tell me about your sordid relations with Seamus-bloody-Finnigan!"

Blaise stuck out his lower lip. What a ponce. "Well you don't have to have a hissy fit about it, I was getting to that part."

Draco put on one of his award-winning sneers. "Well get there faster, I haven't got all evening."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Okay, er, well. What Hermione said was that he was better off without you, since you'd always treated him badly and hadn't ever cared about the way he felt, and being with you was bad for his self-esteem, since he obviously cares a lot more for you than you do for him."

"That's not true!"

Blaise gave a dry laugh. "Isn't it?"

"It's not!" Draco wasn't quite so sure of himself this time, but he didn't let it show.

"Draco, Harry's and your relationship was the most ridiculously one-sided thing I've ever seen. He snuck about in the middle of the night to come to the Slytherin dorms. He sat over here at every meal. He bought you loads of expensive stuff for your birthday. He always let you win when you had a row. And what did you ever do for him? Nothing."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Clearly you don't understand the yin-yang nature of our relationship," he intoned icily. "He is good, and I am bad. He is light, and I am dark. He's a Gryffindor, and I'm a Slytherin. He's selfless, I'm…a Slytherin. I mean, for Merlin's sake, we've even got opposite coloured hair!"

"Yes, but you weren't even nice to him! I mean, he was your boyfriend! That means you're at least supposed to like him!"

"I did! I still do!"

Blaise shrugged. "Could have fooled me."

"Well if I didn't like him, why did I bother shagging him?" Ha. Take that, Blaise!

"Obviously, because he's gorgeous," replied Blaise in a very Granger-esque fashion. "And laying claim on Harry Potter is pretty impressive."

Draco was incredulous. "Are you insinuating that I _used_ him? That he was some sort of trophy wife? How dare you!"

"You never proved otherwise. Besides, I'll bet one million galleons that he never topped _once_."

Draco looked away. "He said he liked being bottom…"

"Oh, please. Look at it from a psychological standpoint: He had no freedom at all until he was eleven, and since then he's had Dumbledore and his minions in his hair, messing around and preparing him for battle with You-Know-Who, who also has a personal vendetta against him and has appeared, what, three or four times at the end of the year to try and finish him off. Don't you think Harry's had enough of being controlled?"

Draco had to admit it made sense, although he wondered how exactly Blaise knew all this about Harry. He'd have to inquire about it later. But the fact remained that Harry _had_ said he was fine with being bottom. If he'd _asked_ to top, Draco probably would have let him. Although, the thought of it was a bit squicky. So what, he wasn't comfortable with his sexuality yet! Harry was perfectly fine with it! Fucking Blaise, overanalysing the entire situation.

"And, for that matter, have you ever…y'know…serviced him?"

Although it was painfully obvious what Blaise was getting at, Draco feigned ignorance. Blaise deserved to squirm, the little wanker. "In what way?"

"Er…Have you ever sucked him off?"

Trust Blaise to make it sound as vulgar as possible. At least he hadn't said 'polished his wand' or something stupid like that. "That's none of your business, quite frankly."

Blaise smiled smugly and Draco wanted quite badly to punch him. "Well, another million galleons says you haven't, or if you have, it was once or twice and not anywhere near the amount of times he's polished _your_ wand."

God dammit. Draco decided he needed to find new friends. Greg and Vince never interrogated him about his sex life. Then again, Greg and Vince mostly pointed and grunted. At least Blaise liked to gossip.

**Ooh, please review! Concrit is LOVE. More chapters fairly soon.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. At all. Not even a little eensy bit.**

**A/N: Hmm, here we are again. I have a fair few chapters already done, so these'll be submitted one after the other for a while. Anyway, I'm not so sure about this chapter, I've always felt something was missing from it, not to mention it's a bit on the short side. As it hasn't been _properly_ beta'd, constructive criticism would be helpful bordering on godly. Review, if you please!**

**Chapter Two**

After an enlightening conversation on perfecting one's fellating technique, Draco had shut himself back in his room to ponder how he would ever look Seamus Finnigan in the face again, and more importantly, what the bloody hell he was going to do about Harry. It was times like these he was extremely thankful to have gotten his own room back in first year, through the combined forces of his father's power over the school governors (now long gone, sadly) and Snape's strange fascination with him (unfortunately, still alive and well). Otherwise, Blaise might've followed him in here and insisted on talking about blowjobs and rimjobs and whatever other fucking jobs he could pull out of his arse. Fucking Blaise.

It wasn't as if he was even right, anyway! Honestly, it wasn't like Harry was his _bitch_ or anything. They'd had as healthy and communicative a relationship as any.

Okay, he wasn't even fooling himself with that one. So Harry had always … put a little more of himself into the relationship. But he was the Gryffindor! It was in his nature! Didn't Gryffindors _like_ doing that sort of thing?

Well, he couldn't imagine anyone really liked being ignored by their own boyfriend.

_And always being on the giving end of oral pleasure!_

Thank you, inner Blaise.

It certainly wasn't that he didn't _like_ Harry. Fucking hell, he liked Harry a lot! Harry was nice, and conscientious, and always offered to help him with Transfiguration homework (it wasn't HIS fault McGonagall was a biased cow!), and always managed to make him laugh even if he never said anything particularly witty. Harry had this air of … warmth and sunshine about him. Urgh, that sounded so gay. Whenever Harry was around, Draco just felt…happy. Not to mention the boy was a bloody sexpot. His hair always looked like he'd been snogged silly, although Draco's Malfoy instincts still yearned to tame it, at times. And his eyes. Gods, his eyes. Draco could drown in those things. When Harry looked at him with those _lethal weapons_, he felt like he was going to die. …In a good way.

What the hell was he going to do without Harry! He couldn't even fathom the idea of shacking up with someone else. Girls, of course, were just not his taste, and how many blokes at Hogwarts were poufs? There was him, Harry (technically, he called himself "bisexual" but the last time he'd shagged a girl was, oh, NEVER), Finnigan and Blaise, but they were together, and Justin Finch-Fletchley. Not only was Finch-Fletchley a Hufflepuff, but he was also one of the most obnoxious people Draco knew and he was just out of the question. Fucking Finch-Fletchley.

So if he was so attached to Harry and enjoyed his company so much, why had he gotten dumped? He thought back to what exactly had happened, this morning at breakfast…

_Draco sat at the Slytherin table, poking at whatever peasant food had been put on his plate today (honestly, who did the cooking in this place?), and Harry was sitting at the Gryffindor table across the hall, for the first time in months. Usually, breakfast and dinner were spent with Draco, and lunch with Granger and the Weasel. Granger was talking very quickly to Harry, and he looked somewhat distraught. Weasley, having no sense of subtlety at all, kept glancing over at Draco, alerting him that he was, apparently, the subject of their discussion. When Harry got up, Draco looked back down at his plate, pretending not to notice that Harry was making his way over to where he sat._

"_Er… hi, Draco," Harry said timidly as he sat down across from Draco, who looked up indifferently. Harry's hair was looking more delicious than usual; he must not have slept well last night._

"_Morning, sunshine," he said with a practised nonchalant tone._

_Harry took a deep breath. Uh-oh. Something was coming. "Listen, Draco," he said quietly, "Um. I think we shouldn't see each other anymore."_

_Oh,_ fuck_. How to rectify this situation? Um…Make a joke! He raised an eyebrow. "What, so we should wear blindfolds? Didn't know you were into that kind of thing, Potter…"_

_Harry didn't smile. Oh, shit. He was really about to dump him, wasn't he? "No, Draco. I mean…I'm breaking up with you."_

_Draco paused for a moment, pondering his next move. His first inclination was to cry and apologize profusely, but that wouldn't do with the large audience that had gathered. Either Harry wanted to publicly embarrass him, or didn't realize that the Great Hall really wasn't the place to do this, but now the entire Slytherin table was watching them and whispering amongst themselves. Two fourth-year girls were discussing how Draco would react. One said he'd go all Ice-Prince (she _said_ that!) and tell Harry to bugger off, and the other reckoned he'd start yelling and hex Harry's lights out. Making a mental note to kill both of them later, Draco did neither._

"_Why?" he said, perfectly calmly._

_Harry was caught off-guard. "Er…what?"_

"_Why," he repeated, using his patented 'dangerously cool' voice, "are you breaking up with me?"_

"_Well, I just reckon I don't need someone acting as though I'm a pain in the arse all the time. You know, and not being, er, nice." He faltered under Draco's steady gaze. "And, y'know, I don't feel like you appreciate me very much, and I feel like we don't communicate and, well, it's not that I don't love you but really, Draco, you're just not good for me."_

_You're just not good for me. All of the grief Draco was harboring turned to anger at that. Those were clearly Granger's words—he'd even said them like Granger would. She was obviously convincing him earlier that he had to go through with it, Draco could just hear her… "Honestly, Harry, he's just not good for you! You need to break up with him before the situation gets any worse!" Fucking Granger._

_As much as Draco hated to prove the little know-it-all right, he couldn't bring himself to grovel for forgiveness in front of the entire Great Hall, which was now completely silent. He smiled somewhat mockingly at Harry, who was still sitting there, and said "Well! I'm sorry to hear that, Potter." His smile widened. "The sex was great, though, while it lasted. Have a nice life!" With that, he went back to his breakfast, even though he wasn't remotely hungry. _

_He heard Harry get up and whisper, "Bye, love."_

Love. Always a touchy subject between them. Harry, being a Gryffindor, had professed his undying Gryffindorish love for Draco early on, maybe a month or two in. Draco, however, had never been able to tell Harry he loved him. The way he saw it, it gave people a way to hurt him. It made Harry his weakness. Not that he wasn't already his weakness, but admitting he _loved_ him sort of made it official. Attention world, if you ever wanted to hurt Draco Malfoy, here's how. Looking back at it, it was a bit of a stupid way to see it, but he was a Slytherin. That's how he thought.

So it seemed the problem was that Draco hadn't appreciated Harry. Well, no. He hadn't ever _shown_ his appreciation. It wasn't his fault! Where was _he_ when everyone learned how to treat people they cared for? How was he supposed to know that when Harry said something stupid, his reaction was allowed to be entirely different than when Pansy said something stupid? Draco suspected this was one of those things that no one told you when you were spawned from one of the oldest and richest pureblood families in the world. Fucking Malfoys. Always screwing things up for him. Draco made a mental note not to keep these sorts of things from his children. Then he remembered that he was a flaming queer and wouldn't be having any children. Unless he adopted or something.

Draco needed a plan. With what he felt was a proper planning style, he began to pace. And promptly tripped on some foreign object on the floor. Mildly furious, he picked up the offending object, which turned out to be a Gryffindor tie. This only served to worsen his mood, not to mention distract him from the task at hand. A plan, that is. He still needed a plan.

Well, he needed to show Harry how much he appreciated him and cared about him.

By doing what, serenading him under the moon! That was a tad preposterous.

It was clear Malfoys were not made for wooing people.

**Review? Please? For me?  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: Everything belongs to JKR and Scholastic and Warner Bros. and a lot of other people who'd probably hang me if they could. I'm sorry! I take no credit!**

**A/N: Ooh, this is a fun one. One of my favorites! And I got reviews! Thankyouthankyouthankyou! Thanks also to my betas, or rather, a bunch of lazy sods who sat around pestering me to write more for hours on end. Anyway, and my computer and this site seem to have become mortal enemies, so here's to hoping this chapter doesn't get lost in cyber-space. Enjoy!**

Draco entered the Great Hall the next morning in a thoroughly sleep-deprived state. He'd stayed up all night pacing, and had come to the conclusion that it did not, in fact, help one to formulate genius plans to win back scorned lovers. It was Monday, which meant his first class of the day was Potions. With the Gryffindors. Clearly, his suffering would never end.

Taking a sip of tea, Draco stole a glance at the Gryffindor table across the hall. The Golden Trio had their backs to him. Harry was sitting between Weasel and Granger, who were sort of huddled over him. That's right, protect him from the evil ex-boyfriend. You go, mudblood!

Damn, they'd got him so irritable he was saying the 'M' word again. Months of training from Harry, shot in two days. Draco supposed this probably said something about his willpower.

Draco snorted into his tea when, in a failed attempt to reach around Harry and grope Granger, Weasley fell off his stool. Laughing, Harry turned around to help the incompetent oaf up. As he pulled Weasley to his feet, he looked up. At Draco.

Oh. It seemed time had stopped, or something. They stared at each other for what seemed like about ten minutes, when Granger forcefully turned Harry back to the breakfast table. Weasley, making a valiant effort to ignore the fact that he'd just fallen gracelessly onto the floor, sent Draco a sneer as he turned around. Honestly, and people said _he_ was the one with the thugs.

Breakfast ended far too quickly for Draco's taste, and he soon found his traitorous legs walking him to the dungeons. His equally traitorous arms picked up his bag from his room, and he was taken to the Potions classroom.

"On time, for once." Oh, lovely. Blaise again.

Draco smiled amicably. "It would seem I'm without a partner today."

Blaise shrugged. "I'm working with Seamus."

Draco lowered his voice and smiled somewhat evilly. "Zabini, if you don't work with me, I will cut off your balls and feed them to you. I've lost enough face this week, get your fucking cauldron over here. Finnigan will get over it."

Blaise had never been one to put up much of a fight, and moved over to Draco's work station. Finnigan, being the dull boy he was, looked highly insulted and pouted until Blaise promised to make it up to him later. Ewww.

Draco watched as the Gryffindors argued over who would work with whom. Weasley wanted to work with Granger, so he could so unspeakable things to her under the table and still get a good grade. How such a complete cretin had gotten into NEWT Potions was a mystery to Draco, though he suspected Dumbledore had something to do with it. Granger saw the necessity of splitting up with Weasley, since Harry was looking more and more morose by the second. Finnigan wanted to work with Harry, so he could ogle him the whole period. Fucking Finnigan. He then settled for Weasley, who, admittedly, had become sort of svelte over the past summer. Weasley of course was a homophobic shit and said he'd rather work with Harry, thanks. Finnigan pointed out that Harry was just as likely to stare at his arse. Harry looked mortified. Weasley said, matter-of-factly, that that was just a one-time thing, and his test tube immediately shattered. Everyone looked at Harry, who looked downward. Snape took thirty points from Gryffindor. And with that, things became right in the universe once again. Snape started class, surly as usual.

As he ordered Blaise around, Draco mused that in six years at Hogwarts, they had yet to learn how to bottle fame, brew glory, or stopper death. He'd have pointed it out, but that would call attention to the fact that Blaise was doing all the work on their potion. So instead he concentrated on his mental pacing. He discovered that this gave him a headache.

Potions passed without anything terrible happening, except for an awkward moment at the end of class when he and Harry tried to get out the door at the same time and sort of ran into each other. Draco could feel Harry looking at him, but the last thing he really needed at the moment were a pair of big green eyes making him feel bad about himself. He walked through the doorway and off to Arithmancy without a second glance in Harry's direction. He didn't feel as triumphant as he thought he would.

Arithmancy was uneventful, except for the fact that Granger kept trying to place blame on him without saying anything, the result being that she stared at him with Righteous Anger flashing in her eyes for an entire hour. Here he did feel triumphant, as she had forgotten to take notes for possibly the first time in her life. Served her right, fucking Granger.

After lunch, he had Care of Magical Creatures, with the Gryffindors _again_. By this point, Draco had given up on having a good day. Blaise was apparently a little irked about having to do all the work in Potions, because he all but sprinted over to Finnigan when it was revealed that they'd be working in pairs in this class today too. Surprise, surprise! Granger, sensing the potential awfulness of this situation, shoved Weasley in Harry's direction and marched over to Draco. She seemed to march a lot.

"We're partners," she announced, coming to a halt next to him.

"So we are," he replied.

"Right, well then." Granger marched off without another word, and returned with whatever beast they were trying not to kill today. Draco hadn't bothered to listen to Hagrid's lecture. It was against his personal policy to be taught by manglers of the English language.

Granger cleared her throat. If anyone had been around to bet, Draco would have bet a trillion galleons that Granger would say something about how he should leave Harry alone.

"You should leave Harry alone, you know."

Draco turned to her calmly. "I haven't the faintest idea what you mean. I haven't said a word to him since you dumped me. He, that is. Since he dumped me."

Granger pretended not to have heard him. He _hated_ when she did that. What's that, Granger? You're _wrong_? Oh, just kidding. It never happened. Let's erase it from time altogether. Fucking Granger. "You're always _staring_ at him. It's quite obnoxious, you know, he told you he didn't want to see you anymore and he meant it."

Draco was well aware that Weasley and Harry were watching them, so he suppressed his urge to hit her. Instead, he smiled sweetly. "We'll see."

This, of course, sounded like he had a plan. Which, he reminded himself, he did not.

He and Granger thankfully lapsed into silence, and stood watching their filthy animal roll in the mud. Draco took a routine survey of the class. Longbottom was making an arse out of himself, Blaise and Finnigan were bordering on obscene, Patil and Brown were watching and giggling, Greg and Vince looked stupid, as usual. Draco let his gaze come to rest on Harry, who had gotten his and Weasley's mud-beast very excited about something, since it was hopping about madly and emitting sparks. He smiled broadly and let out a laugh.

Draco could feel himself grinning just from watching. Harry had the best smile in the world. He looked so innocent and cute and all-around lovely. His green eyes lit up, glittery and almost ethereal. There was a slight breeze, and the hair in his face made him look even cuter. His laugh was light, and went straight to Draco's heart. And, unfortunately, his groin.

Draco realized far too late that he was having a Harry Moment of the worst possible kind. The kind that always, _always_ ended with an erection in an entirely inappropriate place. Fucking Harry and his fucking smile. Who becomes physically aroused from watching people _smile_? It made him feel a bit horrible, to tell the truth. His smile is so _nice_ and _innocent_ and whoops, looks like explicit sexual images are coming to mind again!

Well, this was problematic. Harry didn't seem to be showing him any mercy, either, since he took that moment to remove his cloak. His school uniform was conservative enough, but his neck was now in full view, and a bit of his collar bone poked out when he stretched. Draco could feel his brain shutting down, and became unbearably hot. He was hardly in a position to take off his own cloak, however, so instead he suffered, hot and uncomfortable, for the rest of class.

Afterwards he had a free period, during which he wanked. A lot.

Fucking Harry.

"Merlin, ever heard of a silencing charm?" grumbled Pansy as Draco sat down for dinner.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Don't need 'em, I've got my own room, remember?"

"Well you'll need one if you keep _screaming_ like that all the time!"

Draco froze. "I wasn't _screaming_."

Blaise invited himself into the conversation. "You were. You're lucky most people had classes or the entire house would know you get off on boyish smiles and innocent laughter. Pervert."

Blaise's death would be a long and painful one, Draco decided.

"I told you you were a screamer," Blaise added around a mouthful of lamb chops.

"I am _not_. You and her," he waved an arm in Pansy's direction, "probably had your ears pressed up against the door, listening intently. Who's perverted now?"

Pansy smirked. "Still you. So, what, do you go to primary schools to watch the little boys giggle on their way down the slide?"

Pansy would have to die too.

Blaise chuckled. "No, it's probably just one of his weird Harry things. Ooh, remember when he made Harry wear makeup for an entire week?"

He'd make the pair of them beg for mercy.

"And those _really_ tight trousers, they looked good on him…"

Draco cleared his throat. Blaise and Pansy looked up, shaken from their reverie. "Right, sorry," said Blaise. "He has a fabulous arse, though. You'd know that, though, wouldn't you? Lucky bastard."

Pansy huffed. "What would Finnigan say if he could hear this?"

"Oh, he and I broke up," Blaise said nonchalantly.

Pansy didn't look surprised. "When?"

"Care of Magical Creatures."

Draco choked on his pumpkin juice. "But you were all over each other in Care of Magical Creatures!"

"Well, it was after that."

"Why?" demanded Draco.

"Well, we can't really compete if we're together, can we?"

Pansy laughed. "Over…what?" Draco asked uneasily.

"Harry, of course."

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN, HARRY!"

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Calm _down_, Malfoy. No need to broadcast to the entire school!"

Draco lowered his voice to a venomous hiss. "What the _fuck_ do you mean, you're competing over Harry? Harry's mine!"

Pansy let out a dry laugh. "Not anymore, he's not. Blaise and Finnigan aren't the only ones, either. It's a school-wide event. There are representatives of every house. Gryffindor has Finnigan, Weasley, and"—

"_WEASLEY_!" No. No, anything but that…

"Girl Weasley, that is. Jenny or whatever. Patil will probably join in too, she thinks she's got some sort of long-standing claim on him because of the Yule Ball in Fourth year…Hufflepuff has Finch-Fletchley and possibly Susan Bones, from Ravenclaw there's Chang—" Draco clenched his fists automatically, "—and dear old Blaise is representing Slytherin."

Draco blinked. "And what about me?"

"You're not allowed, you're the ex."

"You can't just treat him like some prize to be won! He needs someone who cares about him, not someone who wants to show him off!"

There was a brief pause, and Blaise and Pansy looked at each other. They'd been handed a golden insult opportunity; who would take this one?

Draco sighed. "Oh, fuck both of you. Yes, I get the irony. You've made your point. I've learned my lesson. For Slytherins, you two are awfully morally correct."

"We weren't teaching you a lesson, stupid," smirked Pansy, "There actually is a contest."

"But congrats on having taught your_self_ a lesson!" said Blaise cheerfully. "You're so morally correct!"

**Reviewers are the best ever ever twice. Concrit is wonderful and brit-picking is t3h sexxors, and that means a lot coming from someone who abhors typing that way.**


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: That's it. You know what? I'm gonna go find a ready-made disclaimer, I'm tired of typing these. Ehem: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Very professional-sounding, eh?**

**A/N: Sorry, short chapter. But some Very Important Revelations are had, so I hope that makes up for it. Also, I'm off to the Grand Canyon for some amount of time after this, so I think this'll be the last chapter for a while. Doesn't really matter though, everyone'll be too engrossed with HBP to care about my goofy fanfiction anyway, including me. **

**Chapter Four! Oh, I forgot to label the last one as Chapter Three, I hope everyone figured that out okay. I have faith in you guys.**

It became abundantly clear on Tuesday morning that a great many people were taking the so-called competition very seriously. Draco raised a forkful of pancakes to his mouth as he watched Harry from across the Great Hall. Mudblood and the Weasel were sitting across the table from him, leaving the seats to Harry's right and left open. Draco was sure they'd done this on purpose.

Draco began to worry when the Weasley girl sat down on Harry's left and gave him what she probably thought was an innocent and shy smile. The effect of the smile was somewhat lessened by the fact that she pushed out her ample chest as she grinned. When Finnigan sat down on Harry's other side and _winked_. Harry looked mildly uncomfortable. Draco realized his fork was still poised near his mouth, and put it down, having lost his appetite.

And so he suffered. Weaselette continued to present herself as eye candy, to the point where several others at the Gryffindor table were slavering over her, but Harry seemed not to notice. Ha! If Harry really liked girls, Draco would eat his wand.

Finnigan, however, took a more direct approach and kept _touching_ Harry in a manner that made Draco's blood boil. His fingers kept lingering on Harry's when Harry passed him something, and when Finnigan threw his arm around Harry's shoulders, Harry smiled weakly and valiantly attempted to continue the conversation he was having. However, when Finnigan's hand disappeared under the table, Harry jumped up violently and declared he was taking a walk.

Draco counted slowly to thirty before following. He wasn't really sure _why_ he was following Harry, but it seemed like a good idea.

Draco peered down the corridor. There was no sign of Harry, he must have run somewhere rather quickly. Draco gave a mental shrug before heading toward the Slytherin dungeons to get his bag for class. Walking down a staircase, he could hear a voice coming from around a corner.

"Peeves, give me my glasses back."

Draco recognized the voice instantly as Harry's.

"Not until you've said the magic word, Potty!" came Peeves' shrill reply. Peeves had a special place in his heart for Harry, apparently; he was the only student above third year Peeves still picked on.

"Peeves! I mean it!"

Draco felt this was a perfect opportunity for him to be heroic, so he rounded the corner. "Peeves," he said exasperatedly, "just give him the bloody glasses."

Peeves found this to be quite amusing, and howled with laughter. What a nutter.

At that moment, luckily, the Bloody Baron floated through a nearby wall. "Baron!" called Draco, "Oy! Baron!"

The Baron glided over to them, looking frightening and ghoulish and all that.

"Baron," said Draco, "Make Peeves give Potter his glasses back."

The Baron stared at him, unmoved.

Draco sighed. "Baron," he said haughtily, "As a representative of the esteemed house of Malfoy, I request that you please tell Peeves to give Potter his glasses back."

The Baron looked at Peeves, who'd been frozen in place since his arrival. "Peeves," he croaked, "Give the boy his glasses."

"Y-y-yes, your Bloodiness." With that, he tossed the glasses back to Harry and fled. The Bloody Baron, looking bored (and scary!) floated back through the wall from whence he'd come. Draco felt somewhat triumphant. He supposed emotionally stunted rich pureblood families were good for something after all.

"Er…thanks, Draco," said Harry uncertainly.

Draco smirked coldly. "Thank the esteemed house of Malfoy, Potter."

"'Potter'? We're back to that? Look, Draco, I—"

"Save it, Potter." And with that, he turned around and walked away, not really sure of how he was supposed to feel.

After enduring another day of Finnigan groping Harry whenever he got the chance, Draco decided enough was enough. He approached Blaise in the Slytherin common room.

"Blaise."

Blaise looked up. "Mm?"

"Get your fuck-buddy under control."

Blaise blinked innocently. "What?"

"Finnigan. He's being inappropriate. Tell him to stop."

"Seamus isn't my problem anymore, remember?"

Draco sighed. "Yeah, but come on, you must have _some_ say here."

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Even if I did, why would I say anything?"

"Because he's _bothering _me."

Blaise smiled. "Sounds like someone's jealous."

Draco glared at him. "I'm not jealous. He's just being indecent."

Blaise's smile widened as he appreciated the massive amount of potential taunting this situation was bringing. "And why do _you_ care, Drakey?"

Draco had to take a moment to calm himself down. No one called him Drakey except the ghost of his great-great-great-grandmother Isabella. The only reason she was even allowed to get away with it was because she was completely bonkers and would reenact her favorite scenes from operas in the middle of dinner when she didn't get her way. Father wanted to banish her, but Mother wouldn't allow it. Draco shook his head. He was drifting again. "I _told_ you, Blaise, it's hard to concentrate in class when Finnigan's letting out his pent-up sexual frustration on unsuspecting bystanders all the time."

"You didn't even have a class with him today," said Blaise smugly.

"Yes, well," Draco stammered, before remembering that Malfoys Don't Stammer and promptly collecting himself, "I see him in the hallway, after all. And during meals. He's very annoying."

"And this has nothing to do with the fact that Harry's been his primary target?" asked Blaise sweetly.

"No," replied Draco firmly.

But Blaise kept on. "So you wouldn't mind then if _I_ asked Harry out? He's _such_ a nice guy, you know."

"Don't you dare, Zabini."

Blaise tilted his head, effectively reminding Draco of a confused dog. "Ooh, but I think I will. He's got no reason to say no, after all. I'm very approachable for a Slytherin, I've been told."

"No," repeated Draco, just as firmly.

Blaise's smile became cruel. "You were horrible to him for _six months_, you acted like you wanted nothing better than for him to leave, and now he has and you think you have some kind of _claim_ on him? Think again, my friend."

Draco remained silent, gritting his teeth. He needed a witty retort, to shut Blaise up, before he got on a roll.

"Why," Blaise continued, mockingly, "do you care all of a sudden what happens to him, anyway? You never cared before. Why does it bother you so much that other people are interested in him? Why are you so _obsessed_ with him?"

"Because I love him!" Draco blurted. Not exactly a witty retort. Where in the hell had that come from?

Blaise looked triumphant. "Ha! I knew it. Pansy owes me ten galleons."

Draco blinked, speechless. He'd just had a huge revelation, and they were _betting_ on him? Sometimes he hated having Slytherins for friends. "I need a drink," he said faintly.

**REVIEW! Please! Oh gods, please! That's right, I'm begging.**


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

**A/N: Hello again! THIRTY-ONE REVIEWS! I LOVE YOU ALL! My attorney advises me to say that I'm very happy to be back and writing. Because she's stupid, and really my beta lizren in disguise. So! Another short chapter, and for this I apologize. However! It does include a brief and silent appearance from Ewan McGregor, and he's the best. And wearing a kilt. I had a lovely time in Arizona, not that anyone is interested, and I cried my eyes out at HBP. Oh god, the tragedy. I also discovered, through reading, that my Blaise could not possibly be any more out of character. Even if I tried. Oh man. Ahhh… funny stuff. I won't spoil anymore, for the three people worldwide who haven't read it yet. Enjoy this chapter… it's splendid. And um, bye.**

**Chapter le cinqieme**

So. He loved Harry. This, it seemed, added to his problems tremendously. There was now a certain necessity for him to think of a Brilliant Plan to thwart Harry's many pursuers and win him for himself, as quickly as possible. Draco sat in the Slytherin common room staring at a wall, garnering many strange looks from younger students, trying to think of a suitable Brilliant Plan.

Blaise, of course, had been no help at all. After Draco had had his epiphany, he'd gone off to find Pansy and collect his money. The two of them had returned, and Pansy had demanded a confirmation. Draco, somewhat dumbfounded, had nodded blankly, fervently wishing someone would get him a firewhiskey.

He'd spent the last quarter of an hour trying to get his head around this new development, only to realize that it made his dilemma considerably worse. Now he'd gone back to his original strategy of mental pacing.

"Oh, sod it…" he muttered, getting up. He'd sleep on it, he supposed.

As he stepped into his room, he spotted Harry's tie, still on the floor. He froze. Of course! Harry! He'd talk to Harry and sort the whole thing out. Now completely awake and alert, he ran back out of the room. He was almost to the door of the common room before he realized he didn't know the Gryffindor password.

He scampered back through the common room, before remembering that Malfoys Don't Scamper and slowing to a more dignified stride. He made his way to the room the other sixth year boys shared, hoping Blaise was there, and opened the door.

He took in the room, realizing he hadn't been in it before. There were three four-poster beds, each with the curtains drawn. He wondered which one was Blaise's, before noticing that the wall behind one of them had a humongous poster of a delectable-looking Muggle in a kilt. Well, he knew which bed was Blaise's. He wrenched back the curtains before giving a strangled yelp.

Blaise was indeed there, but he was not the only inhabitant of the bed at the moment. Laying astride him was some Ravenclaw, named Corner if memory served. Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Can I help you?"

Draco quickly averted his eyes, looking instead at the first thing he saw, which happened to be the man in the kilt. He was quite good-looking. Draco cleared his throat. "What's the Gryffindor password?"

Blaise moaned. Apparently Corner hadn't felt the interruption was any reason to stop. Draco stared more intently at the poster. "Password's—'jobberknoll'—" Blaise panted.

"And who's this guy?" Draco asked, still studying the man in the kilt. "He's pretty hot…"

"Ewan McGregor—Muggle actor—" Blaise replied.

With a final glance at Ewan, who, since it was a Muggle poster, had remained in the same pose the whole time, Draco closed Blaise's curtains, vowing to knock next time, and set off for Gryffindor Tower.

After climbing what felt like ten thousand staircases in the dark and miraculously not getting caught, Draco stopped in front of a morbidly obese woman in a pink dress. "Jobberknoll," he said importantly. Casting him a suspicious glance, the woman's portrait swung open, revealing a large hole. He stepped through, and gave the common room a once-over. Harry's tell-tale messy hair did not seem to be sticking up from any of the scarlet chairs or couches. He must have gone to bed. Draco had only been up here a few times before, but he remembered that Harry's room was up the spiral staircase to the left.

Having reached the top of the staircase, he stopped before the door marked 'Sixth years.' However, before he had a chance to open it, it opened by itself, revealing none other than Ron Weasley. "What the hell are you doing here, Malfoy?"

Draco sneered. "I'd like to talk to Harry, if that's not too much trouble."

Apparently it was. Weasley stepped out of the dormitory and closed the door behind him, standing between Draco and the entrance. "Piss off Malfoy, Harry doesn't want to see you."

"I'm sure he can speak for himself, Weasley."

Weasley didn't move, but did become angrier. "_I'm_ telling you he doesn't want to see you."

Draco smirked. "What are you, his secretary? For your sake, I hope he's paying you for it."

Weasley seethed. Draco couldn't help it, it was so very easy to push the Weasel's buttons. He knew it wasn't sensible – the boy was a lot bigger than him and had a very short temper – but he continued. "Now if you don't get out of my way, I'm going to rape your sister until she bleeds."

Despite the fact that anyone with half a brain knew that Draco would _never_ fuck a Weasley, let alone a girl Weasley, this was the last straw, and Draco found himself shoved up against the wall, with Weasley pressed up against him in a very intimidating fashion. Behind them, the door to Harry's dormitory opened.

"Problem?"

And there was Harry, looking more exasperated than anything else. Weasley froze, a handful of Draco's robes in one hand and the other hand balled into a fist, poised to hit Draco in the face.

Draco gulped. Harry was wearing nothing but a towel. He was _wet_, there were little rivulets of water trickling down his tanned chest. The towel was low on his hips, Draco could see his hipbones jutting out deliciously. Harry's damp hair stuck to his forehead, and he shook his head, flexing the muscles in his neck. Worst of all, Harry wasn't wearing his glasses, meaning that there was no protective barrier between him and Harry's gorgeous green eyes, which focused on him as Harry raised an eyebrow.

Oh, gods. Draco swallowed again, with difficulty. He was having another Harry Moment, he could feel his trousers constricting… He wondered if Weasley, who was still pressed up against him, would notice.

"ARGH! _Gross_!" Weasley shoved him away roughly. "Malfoy, you're revolting!"

Draco didn't have a chance to smirk or say anything scathing, as he realized that his efforts to regain his balance after Weasley's forceful shove were not working. He stuck an arm out behind him to break his fall, only to discover that the ground wasn't there; he was tumbling down the stairs.

He heard Weasley let out a smug, "Ha!" while Harry swore loudly and started down the stairs as well. Draco landed at the bottom of the stairs in a heap, attracting the attention of the entire common room. He tried to get up, and found that there was a sharp pain in his leg when he attempted to move it.

"Draco! Are you all right?" Harry was crouching next to him, looking concerned.

"I hate your friends, Potter," Draco muttered.

Harry smiled and helped him to his feet. "Can you walk?" Draco shook his head. "Let's get you to the hospital wing, then. I'll deal with Ron later." Somehow the idea that Weasley would get an angry talking-to did not seem satisfactory, but Draco didn't mention it. He slung an arm over Harry's shoulder and Harry held him by the waist, and they slowly made their way out of the common room. Draco looked behind them, to see Weasley's smile fading. Clearly, he hadn't assumed close physical proximity between Harry and the Evil Ex-Boyfriend From Hell would result. Draco shot him a toothy grin over his shoulder.

**Teeheehee. Did anyone else notice that Harry left the common-room still clad only in a towel? I DID! However, that's because I wrote it. The poster of Ewan is based on a real picture, which I love dearly and have posted a link that might not work in my profile since they wouldn't let me link it here. Because they're dumb. Okay, well… it might be a tad longer until the next chapter, seeing as how I haven't written it yet. It's a celebration, bitches! Thanks ever so for the reviews, leave some more. Please? **

**Also, if anyone knows a good word for a fast, determined, and somewhat intimidating walk, I would be forever obliged, because "stride" was suggested by my father (Man, would he hate me if he knew what he'd suggested it for) and I don't think it fits quite right. You know, in the part where he's Not Scampering and all that. THANKS MUCHO. REVIEWWWWWWWW.**


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

**A/N: Well hello again, folks. HOLY MOTHER OF GOD, I have more reviews! You guys really are very nice. Well, we've come to the _pivotal_ sixth installment of our gripping drama. Err.. well, pivotal's a bit strong, really. Let's see, this one's freshly written, and I feel like the mood is changing somewhat, and I'm having this internal battle over whether this is healthy dynamic growth of the characters, or just me being bad at life. Whatever. Anyway, I'd like to thank Liz for being a REAL LIVE BETA (I'm so proud of you!) and giving me some helpful concrit, while the rest of you (glares at Annie and Lauren) were off … doing other things altogether. Liz also drew me some fanart, which is THE shit, but I can't show it to you because it's a chapter that hasn't happened yet and that would just ruin everything! In time, though, you will be given a link. I also drew some comics, but they're really sort of ridiculous and mostly feature Blaise in a tutu and Snape eyeing Draco in a thoroughly non-teacherish manner. Finally, this chapter is dedicated (if you can really dedicate a chapter; that seems sort of pretentious) to Vanessa, who's going to KENYA TT and will be missed dearly. Sorry for the long author's note, but you should see the ones I give to my betas! Voila – Harry's towel-clad adventures.**

**CHAPTER NEXT**

Harry was almost naked.

This was the foremost thought in Draco's mind as they walked haltingly through the dark corridors of Hogwarts. Harry, being the selfless boy he was, hadn't even stopped to put on a pair of trousers after Draco had fallen, and he was now hunched over, supporting most of Draco's weight as he led them to the hospital wing, wearing nothing but a _towel_.

The second thing that occurred to Draco was that Harry was very damp. Draco's left arm, which was resting on the back of Harry's neck and upper back, had become somewhat wet during the course of their journey, and Draco felt that this was very, exceptionally okay with him.

Draco was determined not to look below Harry's neck. However, as he stared militantly at Harry's hair, he unconsciously followed a little drop of water as it fell into the space between his neck and collar bone. It then traveled down his chest, over his stomach, and disappeared beneath the fluffy white towel.

Draco silently cursed his lack of resolve. It seemed he had strayed somewhat from above Harry's neck. As if fate knew he was looking at a very out-of-bounds place at the moment, the towel slipped about a centimeter. Draco's mouth became very dry. It slipped another centimeter. He couldn't bloody look away!

For the second time that evening, he felt a Big Problem coming on.

_No no no no no… _Draco's eyes were unwilling to look elsewhere, completely fixated on the towel that was inching slowly downwards. Oh gods, this couldn't happen _now_. They weren't yet anywhere near the hospital wing; Harry was sure to notice. Swallowing thickly, Draco desperately did the only thing he could think of, and leaned sharply onto his left leg.

Searing pain shot up his leg, and he stumbled, biting his lip to keep from crying out. However, it had done the trick, and he now stared resolutely forward.

Harry stopped. "All right there?"

Draco didn't look at him. "Yes, fine. Sorry, just lost my balance a bit."

Harry seemed satisfied, and resumed walking. "So why did Ron feel he had to shove you down the staircase?"

"Because he's a git," Draco replied instantly.

"I find it hard to believe that you didn't provoke him at all."

Draco was very disinclined to tell Harry why Weasley had felt it necessary to shove him off. "I might've said he was poor or something…"

Harry sighed. "Why do you _insist_ on having a go at his family? You _know_ it makes him angry."

Draco smiled and turned to look at his towel-clad companion. "Exactly."

Bugger, now he was stuck looking at him again. Draco cleared his throat. "You're not wearing any clothes, you know."

Even with his features somewhat obscured by the darkness, Draco could tell Harry was blushing. "Hmm. So I'm not." Harry grinned cheekily at him. "Well, nothing you haven't seen before, right?"

Draco's stomach did a somersault. Was Harry _flirting_ with him? Did this mean Harry _wanted_ him back? _No_, he told himself, _he's just being friendly. Don't get your hopes up._ He made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat.

They lapsed into silence, and Draco felt a strange sense of loss. He attempted to restart the conversation with something that had just occurred to him. "It's after bedtime."

Harry stared up at him. "So?"

"Well," Draco said, "you're not a prefect. You're not allowed to be out after bedtime. Neither am I, really, 's not my night to patrol and we're nowhere near Slytherin."

Harry apparently hadn't thought of this. "Oh. Well. Let's hope no one finds us, then."

A few moments later, however, Harry screwed up his eyes and peered down the corridor. "Draco," he whispered, "there's someone up ahead of us. I haven't got my glasses on, who is it?"

Draco felt his heart sink. It was Snape, and he'd already spotted them.

"Fuck. It's Snape."

Harry groaned. "Oh gods, he loathes me. We're going to be in detention for the rest of our lives."

Though Draco didn't think he'd mind being in detention with Harry for the rest of his life, he whispered back, "No, maybe not, he loves me. Just let me do the talking."

As Snape came to a halt in front of them, Draco put on a winning smile. "Good evening, Professor."

Snape didn't return the smile. "Potter," he said icily, "may I ask what you're doing wandering the corridors after hours in a state of…considerable undress?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but shut it when Draco trod on his foot. "Well, you see Professor," Draco started hastily, "his clothes were stolen." He knew it was a terrible lie, but he hoped Snape's extreme lenience in his case would come into play.

"Stolen," said Snape skeptically, not taking his eyes off Harry. "By who?"

Draco said the first name he could think of. "Zabini! Blaise Zabini stole them. Potter here was doing some late night Quidditch training. You know us Quidditch players, always…playing Quidditch and all. This was before curfew of course. And so he was in the showers, and Zabini stole his clothing _and_ his glasses. And he can't see a thing without his glasses, blind as a bat, so he's just wandering around, and who should he run into but yours truly! So I was graciously helping him back to the Gryffindor common room." As he finished with another broad smile, Draco prayed Snape wouldn't notice that they were headed in the opposite direction of the Gryffindor common room.

"And what were you doing out?"

Draco shrugged. "Fancied a walk, I suppose."

Snape regarded them for a moment, as though weighing his options. Here he had found his favorite student, who he couldn't possibly give a detention, making up an outrageous lie for his least favorite student, who was walking around in a towel. Ultimately, his love for Draco won out.

"Fine. But _do_ be more considerate next time, Potter, not all of us want to see you strutting about naked." As an afterthought, he added, "Ten points from Gryffindor." And with that he left, cloak billowing in his wake.

Harry and Draco let out simultaneous sighs of relief.

Harry laughed harshly. "Blaise stole my clothes from the Quidditch showers and you _fancied _a _walk_? That was terrible!"

Draco huffed. "Well, it got you out of about six weeks worth of detention."

"Yeah, but only because he favors you like crazy!"

Draco took his hand off Harry's shoulder. "Well it's not _my_ fault he hates you! Maybe if you weren't so awful at Potions—"

Harry looked at his feet. "Fine," he mumbled. "You're right, let's keep going."

But Draco stayed rooted to the spot. Suddenly he felt sick. Blaise's words from a few days prior echoed in his head; _He always let you win when you had a row_. Draco swallowed. This was his chance to be nicer! He had to let Harry win.

"Well, I—I mean—Potions is really hard, especially now we're in NEWT level. It's not your fault."

Harry shrugged. "It's never been a problem for you. Or loads of other people. You're right, I'm terrible at it."

Draco was determined to lose this argument. "You're not, he's pretty unfair to you. Honestly, I'm not that good at it either, he just favors me, like you said."

Harry smiled. Draco felt his heart skip. Who knew losing could feel so good?

After a few more minutes of limping in silence, Harry turned to him again.

"Why were you in my common room, anyway?"

Oh, hell. Draco had been hoping this wouldn't come up. "I…wanted to talk to you." As he said it, he realized how stupid he must have sounded. He cringed inwardly.

Harry looked concerned. "About what?"

At that moment, however, they arrived at Madam Pomfrey's office, and Draco hurriedly knocked on her door. He thanked every deity he could think of when she came out almost instantly, with her hair in curlers, tutting about irresponsible students as she led him over to a bed.

She turned to Harry, who was standing awkwardly by the door. "You can leave, Potter. I'll have him sorted out in about fifteen minutes, there's no need for you to wait."

Harry looked at Draco, as though waiting for permission to leave. "You can go," Draco said, "We can talk later."

"I've got Quidditch all afternoon tomorrow."

"How about Friday, then?" Draco replied, before Pomfrey shoved a foul-tasting potion into his mouth.

"All right. I'll meet you by the lake after class, before dinner?"

Draco nodded, mouth still full of potion. As Harry turned toward the door, he added, "Fanks," and swallowed. He shuddered. It felt like acid in his throat.

Harry gave a small smile and left quietly. Draco sat, marveling at his luck, when Pomfrey came back and tapped his leg sharply with her wand. "Seems to be in order. Off you go." And she threw him bodily from the room.

As Draco walked through the silent corridors to the Slytherin common room, a sudden panic overwhelmed him. He had two days to think of something charming and romantic to win Harry back, and a Brilliant Plan still eluded him. Still, he couldn't have picked a better location for it, and Harry didn't seem to be very angry with him. Maybe he could salvage things yet.

**AAHH I'm antsy about this one. What'd you think? Review-mcgee. And I edited this, because I noticed that I'd counted my days wrong and this was taking place on Wednesday evening, not Tuesday. Shame on me for not noticing.**


	7. Chapter 7

**DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

**A/N: Long time no see! Sorry for taking about a jillion years writing this chapter. It was being problematic, so I spent a while making it marginally less crappy. Thanks ever so to my betas, Liz, Lauren, and Annie, especially Liz for giving me some helpful concrit that I completely ignored, despite the fact that she was completely right and I agreed with her analysis. I chalk it up to sheer laziness. Thanks also to my reviewers, you guys rule. Especially my most recent reviewer, stoof, because anyone who knows me knows (and resents) that grammar is very important to me. ANYWAY, this is the last chapter, so … things are concluded. I know, who writes a seven-chapter fanfic? It was originally going to be a one-shot, actually, but I was persuaded into making it chapters instead. And so I shift the blame away from myself. But yeah. Enjoy. And all that. **

**Chapter Seven!**

"Blaise! Blaise, wake up!" Draco stormed into the sixth year Slytherin boys' dormitory for the second time in as many days.

He wrenched back the curtains on Blaise's four-poster bed to find a very unconscious Blaise, with the Ravenclaw from the night before curled up against him. Feeling a distinct sense of deja-vu, he poked Blaise hard in the ribs.

"Ow! Dammit, don't _do_ that!" Blaise swatted his hand away and attempted to go back to sleep.

"Oh no you don't…" Draco muttered, pulling off the sheets of the bed. Only to find two very naked people underneath them.

"AUGH!" he bellowed. "Does anyone wear any damn clothes anymore!"

The Ravenclaw groaned. "Stop _yelling_," he grumbled sleepily.

Draco ignored him, and delicately put the sheets back on. He then hopped onto the bed and began to jump violently up and down, not taking much care to avoid people's limbs as he did so.

Blaise sat up, looking murderous, and shoved him onto the floor. "What do you _want_?"

Draco smiled innocently. "I need your help with something."

Blaise grabbed his clock off the bedside table irritably. "It's not even six in the fucking morning!"

Suddenly the Ravenclaw yelped. "Six in the morning! Oh, bugger! I've got to get back to Ravenclaw!" He dressed at record speed, then hopped off the bed. "'Bye, Blaise!" And he was gone.

"'Bye, er… what's his name?"

"Corner, I think," supplied Draco as he stood up.

"Right, Corner. Michael. Well," Blaise said as he grinned mischievously, "I hope I've helped him out with his pitiable sexual confusion."

Draco smirked. "Turned another one, have you?" Remembering his task, he continued, "Anyway, I need your help."

Blaise scrubbed at an eye with the palm of his hand. "What with?"

Draco launched into an enthusiastic retelling of his late night adventures with Harry.

When he finished, Blaise stared at him, aghast. "He was walking around in a _towel_, and you didn't manage to _do_ anything? Not even a quick grope?"

"Do I look like bloody Finnigan to you? And did you even hear anything else I said?"

Blaise waved a hand. "Yes, but it wasn't important. I can't believe you passed up such a golden opportunity."

Draco gritted his teeth. "That's not the _point_. The point is, you have to help me think of something for tomorrow evening!"

"I don't _want_ to," Blaise whined, "Ask Pansy for help, girls are great at romance and all that."

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Pansy, _honestly_. She'd never let him live it down. Besides, her idea of a romantic evening would probably be throwing first years in the lake and talking about garish clothing. He sighed. He'd have to go this one on his own.

"Fine," he said, "Thanks for being completely useless." As he reached the door, he added, "And stop bringing bloody Ravenclaws down here!"

Thursday seemed determined to go by as quickly as possible just to spite Draco. Before he knew it, he was sitting down to dinner across from Pansy and Blaise, mind completely devoid of ideas. What would they talk about? Draco'd wanted to talk before, but that had been a moment of panic and helplessness. Had he not nearly been killed by a flight of stairs, he wouldn't have really had anything to say. So what would he say now?

He glanced over at the Gryffindor table. Harry and his friends were talking animatedly about something or other. Finnigan and the girl Weasley seemed completely uninterested in him and his conversation.

He turned to Blaise and Pansy, who were eating mush and talking about boys or something else stupid. "Oy. Why's Finnigan stopped with his…" He made an unintelligible sort of gesture with his hand. "Contest?"

Pansy sighed. "Well, because he lost."

Draco's heart skipped several beats. "To…who?" he asked, not sure he really wanted to know.

Blaise stared at him as though this should have been obvious. "You, stupid."

Draco pursed his lips irritably. "Don't be a prat. I thought I wasn't even allowed to play! And if I'd won," he continued matter-of-factly, "Harry would be in my room engaging in spirited make-up sex, not sitting over there telling dumb jokes to his bloody friends."

Blaise smacked the back of his head. "Honestly, how thick are you? He's just waiting for you to say you're sorry!"

Draco blinked, attempting to comprehend. Harry was waiting for him to apologize? He could do that! This would be easy! Suddenly, Friday evening couldn't come fast enough.

Friday, accordingly, was the slowest day of Draco's life thus far. As it dragged on and on, he began to have an unfamiliar feeling in the pit of his stomach. Halfway through Transfiguration, he realized he was nervous. Unbelievably nervous. What if Blaise was wrong? What if Harry had moved on? What if he wouldn't forgive him?

Charms was his last class of the day. While Flitwick lectured on Merlin knew what, Draco focused all of his attention on the lake, which he could see through the window next to his seat. That lake was slowly becoming the pinnacle of his existence. Fucking lake. He glared at it, hoping it might catch fire or implode. It didn't.

He attempted to take his mind off of the source of his anxiety by thinking about what he and Harry would do after Harry forgave him. He assumed sex would be involved, but he didn't dare think about that in great detail. Charms was not an ideal place for that train of thought.

_So, are you going to bottom?_ said a startling and yet familiar voice in the back of his head.

Draco dropped his quill. He should have guessed his inner Blaise would be back to give him thoroughly unneeded counsel on inappropriate subjects, as usual.

_Why should I?_ he countered. _Harry _likes_ to bottom._

_Come off it,_ the voice replied, _It would be the perfect way to apologize._

Draco mentally stuttered. _But I always top! I'm the domineering one, after all._

_Yes_, reasoned the voice, _and that's what got you dumped in the first place._

_But I'm taller!_ he cried desperately.

The voice sighed exasperatedly. _But he's Harry Potter, for fuck's sake. You're being unreasonable._

_But I don't _want _to, _he thought petulantly.

_You'll love it. Ooh, and if you think you're a screamer now…_

He inwardly groaned in frustration. _Why does everyone keep _saying _that!_

"Are you with us, Mr. Malfoy?" Flitwick's voice broke into his silent argument.

Draco jumped slightly. "Er…yeah."

He immediately ceased paying attention once again. He'd bully a Ravenclaw into giving him notes later.

Sighing and shaking his head, Draco wondered why his conscience _had_ to take after Blaise-goddamn-Zabini, of all people. He was losing his mind, probably, to be hearing voices like that.

Still, he knew that his somewhat irritating voices were right. Besides, bottoming couldn't be _that_ bad. Blaise seemed to like it quite a lot.

Blaise liked lots of things Draco didn't, though. Like show tunes.

When Charms ended, Draco felt as if he might be sick. His feet, seemingly forgetting to get consent from him, led him slowly down the stairs, through the corridors, onto the grounds. It was quite warm outside, he noted.

He rounded a corner, and there stood Harry, by the edge of the lake. As only he could, he looked awkward and yet completely confident as he shuffled his feet and waited. As Draco approached him, his nerves increased tenfold. It was odd, he thought, for him to be so nervous around Harry. He'd always been perfectly comfortable before. Then again, he'd never been in a position where rejection was imminent. Harry'd done the initial asking, after all. But that was another story altogether.

"Hi," he said, feeling very ill.

"Hi!" said Harry jovially. "How's your leg?"

"Good. Better." Apparently he could only speak in one-word sentences. He mentally smacked himself on the forehead.

"I talked to Ron," said Harry, oblivious to Draco's deteriorating mental state, "and he said he's sorry for pushing you down the stairs. Though when I asked him why he'd done it, he went really red for some reason…"

"Mm." And now he was reduced to grunting. What was he, a bloody caveman?

Harry shielded his eyes from the sun. "Blimey, it's hot out here." With that, he took off his cloak.

Just what he needed. The gods had to be plotting against him.

"C'mon," said Harry, loosening his tie, "let's walk."

Draco, feeling very stupid, kept a couple steps behind Harry as they began to amble around the perimeter of the lake. Shortly thereafter, he discovered that this was a terrible, awful, terrifically idiotic idea.

Blaise was right; Harry had a very nice arse.

He was disgusted with himself for thinking these things at such a crucial moment. This was his moment for redemption!

He was so busy berating himself that he didn't notice when he walked, with considerable force, right into Harry, and knocked him over. With a yelp, he lost his balance, and fell. On top of him.

He would have continued to berate himself over what a clumsy oaf he was becoming, but at that moment his thoughts had taken a turn in a somewhat different direction. Harry was underneath him; Draco could feel the rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of his body heat, and worst of all, Harry was looking at him. It was a familiar position, really, and brought back memories of a lot of things he would have preferred not to think about just then.

"Erm," said Harry, "would you mind getting off?"

Draco felt heat flood his cheeks. Getting off. Mind, here's the gutter, your new home. He quickly jumped off, praying Harry hadn't caught onto his Frequently Recurring Problem, which was making another appearance.

Harry got to his feet, and smiled broadly, running a hand through his hair. Draco swallowed. He wanted to ravish him. His self-control was waning quickly. He was becoming desperate. He _couldn't_ pounce on Harry, it would be rude and quite possibly unwanted, but the temptation was becoming too much to resist.

Thinking quickly, he went for the only escape he could find. He threw himself into the lake.

When he resurfaced, Harry was looking very perplexed.

"Involuntary muscle spasm," Draco said offhandedly, thankful to have avoided another crisis.

Harry laughed. "Need a hand?" He held one out.

Draco grinned. It was too perfect to pass up. He grasped Harry's hand for a moment before giving it a sharp yank. Harry toppled into the water.

"You little bastard!" Harry said half-heartedly. Draco cackled, and got splashed in the face as punishment. He splashed back, and soon they were shoving and laughing and wrestling. In a manly, platonic way, Draco told himself.

Harry was overpowering him by a considerable margin, so Draco dealt his secret weapon. "Hey Harry! Guess what?" Harry blinked, waiting.

Draco took a deep breath. Now or never. "I love you!" He smiled nervously as Harry froze. Draco took the moment to force his head underwater, winning the match.

Harry's head popped back up, and he wiped his face with one hand as he rolled his eyes. "Gods, only you could find such an underhanded, Slytherin way to declare your love for someone."

Draco smiled nervously. He felt as though a dozen Snitches were battling in his stomach. "I—I meant it, you know. And I'm sorry for being such a prat."

Harry's face broke into a lopsided grin. "'S all right." And after a moment's hesitation, he kissed him.

Harry, incidentally, was a fantastic kisser. Draco felt as though someone had set off fireworks inside his head, and he smiled contentedly as he realized how much he'd missed this. He sighed happily as he wrapped his hands around Harry's shoulders.

Draco missed dinner that evening. But he did discover some important new things, such as that Brilliant Plans were terribly overrated, bottoming was something he liked very much, and that he was _definitely_ a screamer.

**FIN**

**(Just kidding, there's an epilogue!)**

**(Please review! ...please?)**

**OH! ALSO! I mentioned a while back that Liz had drawn me some stupendous fanart, and that I would link to it when it no longer spoiled the (_completely_ non-predictable) ending. Now that the ending has come to pass, I'll go put it up in my user profile, since they have some sort of law about links in the text. Because they're dumb, most likely. Anyway, I suggest you take a look. I'll try and repost the Ewan-in-a-kilt picture as well, though that didn't work out so well last time.  
**


	8. Epilogue

**DISCLAIMER: Nothing's mine, ever. Ever. Except the strange obsession with screaming, that's mine. But Harry Potter and all that… not mine.**

**A/N: HOLY JESUS. Sorry for taking practically my whole life to post this. And sorry for the lack of…quality. There's a long story I can tell you about why it took so long, and tell it I will. So, originally I had an actual epilogue, like what happened _after_ the end of the story, but it ended up sucking big time and I abandoned it. Then, I realized, I'd told you I'd post an epilogue and had nothing to post, so I looked to this little plotline, which was originally supposed to a sort of companion one-shot. So now it's the epilogue instead. Whatever. This is unbeta'd, because my betas were all too busy having lives to beta in a timely fashion. So sorry for all the inevitable typos and continuity errors. But thanks to Annie, Lauren, and Liz for their beta services on all the other chapters. Lauren and Liz can be found at their joint username of lizren (Lauren is also hat-and-clogs!), and Annie's is clamjam. I also apologize for the way I continue to dwell on the screaming joke. It tickles my funny bone.  
**

**ONE MILLION THANKS to all my reviewers, to whom I am eternally grateful. You rule so much it make-a me crazy. **

**Epilogue: Draco Tries Something New**

Draco was sure they put Gryffindor Tower this far away on purpose.

He and Harry were making their way there – albeit slowly, since they had to stop every so often to snog – and Draco was losing his patience. He knew what sort of activities awaited him in Harry's dormitory, and he had come to the conclusion that this _fucking_ school was too _fucking _big!

Admittedly, he shouldn't really have been complaining, since it was his idea to go to Harry's room. As appealing as the privacy of Draco's room was, he couldn't bring himself to drag Harry through the common room and see Blaise's damnable I-told-you-so smirk. Blaise would undoubtedly say something vulgar and embarrassing that would ruin the mood completely. Draco thought it was in their best interest to stay far away from Slytherin territory.

Harry and Draco reached the portrait of the far woman looking very strange. Both were sopping wet from their impromptu dip in the lake (neither had subsequently had the presence of mind to perform a simple drying charm), and Harry's hair was messier than Draco had ever seen it. Draco's tie was undone and hung limply around his neck, and he wore a goofy grin that seemed to be permanent.

"Jobberknoll," said Harry quickly, before Draco shoved him roughly up against the wall next to the portrait. Draco knew he was acting shamefully animalistic, but he found it wasn't in him to care as he sucked hungrily on Harry's neck.

"Well, I never!" exclaimed a flustered-sounding voice. Draco turned hazily to see the woman in the portrait glaring at them. "Do you just expect me to hang here, wide open, while you two hooligans get your rocks off?"

Draco smirked. "Pur-lease, you've probably never seen anything so arousing in your whole life."

The lady huffed while Harry let out a laugh. Draco heard himself growl (_growl_!) as he launched himself back at Harry.

Harry grinned. "Whoa, down boy! Come on, you." He grabbed Draco by the wrist and pulled him through the portrait hole. Draco sent the fat lady one last devilish wink.

They made their way hastily through the common room. It looked as though they'd make it to the stairs when suddenly, Draco heard an all too familiar voice from behind them. "Well it's about time!"

Draco groaned. _Fucking _Blaise! He saw Finnigan's head poking up from a chair. _Shit_, he'd forgotten about that. They must've gotten back together! Blaise, it seemed, was once again allowed to spend all of his free time in the Gryffindor common room. Harry stopped, not realizing the peril they were in. Blaise sauntered up to them, grinning from ear to ear. He looked as though Christmas had come early.

Harry wore a similar grin. "Hi, Blaise."

Blaise quirked an eyebrow. "Hel-lo, Harry…Draco."

Draco gritted his teeth. Gods, Zabini would pay for this. Draco had important sex to get to and he was being accosted just so Blaise could _gloat_.

Before he could cut Blaise down to his proper size, Harry butted in. "Oh, Blaise, Professor Snape said he wanted to see you right away. Seemed pretty angry about something. Dunno what, but he said something about stealing clothes?"

Blaise groaned. "Oh, bugger. Thanks." He quickly turned back to the portrait hole and exited.

Draco marveled at his luck. "Bloody brilliant! But why did Snape ask _you_ to talk to Blaise? You aren't even in his House."

Harry smirked evilly. "Snape asked me no such thing. I just wanted Blaise to go away so we could get back to business before he said something completely awkward."

Merlin, Draco loved him.

They climbed the staircase (earning a flinch from Draco; fucking staircase) hurriedly, practically falling into Harry's dormitory. Draco thought they were finally home free when they were met face to face with Ron-_goddamn_-Weasley. He scowled. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

Draco scowled back. "I'm _trying_ to have sex with your best mate, but you're impeding me considerably at the moment."

Weasley grimaced, looking at Harry for affirmation. Harry flushed instantly.

Looking somewhat green, Weasley made for the door. "Right," he said stiffly.

"So…er," stuttered Harry, "If you could tell the guys not to…bother us."

Weasley smiled grimly. "Can do. Oh, and use a silencing charm, yeah? He screams, that one."

Harry grinned sheepishly, ignoring Draco's glare, and watched Weasley leave. He then turned to Draco. "Well."

The clothing removal process was rather frenzied – neither had the patience for anything other than top speed.

Harry yanked the curtains on his four-poster shut and muttered a silencing charm. Then he looked up at Draco. Draco looked back at him. And his brain melted.

_Gods_, but Harry was gorgeous. Not to mention naked. Draco was acutely aware of his Problem, which didn't seem all that problematic anymore.

He was going mad. He attached his mouth to Harry's, tongue feverishly exploring Harry's mouth, battling his own tongue. He felt Harry's hands on his bare chest. This was it, he thought, he was dying. This couldn't be allowed, it was too perfect.

They broke apart, panting, both evidently ready to move onward in the proceedings. Harry swallowed. "Erm, I…"

Draco knew this was it. _This one's for you, Blaise!_ He flung himself onto his hands and knees. "Take me!" he cried dramatically.

Behind him, Harry gaped. "_What?_"

"Take me!" he repeated, wriggling his arse for added clarity.

He felt a strong arm curl around his waist, flipping him over so he lay on his back.

"Sorry," said Harry, hovering over him, "but you looked a bit ridiculous like that."

"Fine," said Draco petulantly, "We can do it like this." He wrapped his legs around Harry's waist.

Harry blinked several times. "Are you…are you _serious_?"

Draco sighed exasperatedly. "_Yes_, Harry, I'm serious, now fuck me, goddammit!"

Harry still seemed unsure. "Draco, you _always_ top."

Draco shrugged. "First time for everything, eh?"

Harry bit his lip in a way that made Draco very, very angry at the lack of speed here. "But…I mean, I've never—I'm probably rubbish. At…this."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Come off it, Potter, now you're just being stupid. Do you not _want_ to?"

"No!" said Harry hastily, "Of course I want to!"

Draco stared up at Harry in disbelief. "Then _what_, dear Harry, could _possibly_ be stopping you?"

Harry gave a lopsided grin, giving in. "You're going to scream like a banshee, you know."

"I don't _scream_."

"You do! I should know, shouldn't I?" He put on a falsetto and screwed his eyes shut. "Oh, _Harry_, Harry, yes, _yes_, gods Harry yes, fuck yes, yes, OH, FUCK HARRY YES, OH, _OH, OHHHHHH!_"

Draco couldn't decide between indignation and mortification; both were very prominent in his mind at the moment. "I don't sound like that," he said weakly.

Harry laughed. "Of course you don't, Draco."

They stared at each other for a moment, Draco pouting and Harry stifling giggles. Draco found that it was _very_ hard to stay angry when his ankles were still linked on the small of Harry's back—his _naked_ back, no less—with Harry looming maddeningly above him. This was ridiculous, he decided, and grabbed Harry by the back of his neck, pulling him down, and pulled simultaneously with his legs.

They kissed almost violently, and Draco's head swam. _Gods_, he'd missed this. Only now it was different; Harry's weight pressed down on him, covering him, touching him deliciously from head to toe. If the whole experience would be like this, he was pretty stupid not to have demanded it in the first place.

"Come _on_," he whined. Harry laughed.

"All right. But tell me if you want to, y'know, stop or anything. It feels a bit weird at first."

Draco was quite sure he could take anything Harry threw at him, and he said so.

Harry grinned. "We'll see."

* * *

Afterwards, Draco could not move. His bones, he thought, must have been replaced by goo without him noticing. "I…god, Potter." 

Harry smiled roguishly. "Good for you, then?"

"Mmph." Draco's brain was taking a vacation at the moment, it seemed. "I love you," he muttered, leaning into him.

"You only want me for the mind-shattering sex, Draco. But nonetheless, I love you too."

Draco giggled somewhere in the vicinity of Harry's neck. He'd be content to lie like this for the rest of his life.

He lifted his head. "Thanks. For, y'know, not being angry. 'M sorry for being a git. I won't act like you're annoying anymore."

Harry smiled.

"Except when you're annoying."

"I'm never annoying, Malfoy."

Draco smirked. His stomach growled loudly. "I'm bloody starving."

Harry checked the clock on the bedside table. He ran a hand through his hair. "We've missed dinner. Want to go to the kitchens?"

Draco wasn't sure his legs would be able to comply, and was even less sure he'd be able to walk correctly even if they would, but he nodded anyway. "Sure."

They showered, as a matter of necessity, before dressing and setting off back through the Gryffindor common room.

"_Finally_!" came Finnigan's unmistakably annoying voice. "Can I go up there now?"

Harry blushed.

Finnigan walked past them, up the stairs. "Oh, and Harry," he called from the top of the staircase, "Great silencing charm, there!"

Draco felt Finnigan would make a lovely addition to his list of People He'd Get Around To Brutally Murdering Eventually.

They were almost to the portrait hole when Weasley stopped them. Were people just _determined_ to get in their way today?

"Harry," he said in a half-amused, half-disgusted voice. "I thought you said you'd use a silencing charm."

"He _did_," Draco said exasperatedly. Why was the Weasel even permitted to talk about this? It wasn't public information, for fuck's sake!

"Well, it must've broken or something. Everyone could hear you guys all the way down here. McGonagall even came in demanding to know who was torturing people."

Harry was scarlet by this point. Draco did his best to look dignified and aloof.

"When she realized what was going on, she couldn't believe it. She went off muttering about having words with the staff," Weasley finished gleefully.

The _staff_? Draco felt ill at the thought of her reenacting the scene in the staff lounge. Surely she wasn't going to _tell_ people!

They reviewed silencing charms in Flitwick's class for a month.

**FIN, FO REAL THIS TIME.**

**Wow. My first fic over and done with. Just in time for school. Damn. **

**This is not the last you'll be hearing from me, however! My bunnies are constantly gnawing on the inside of my head, so I'll return probably very soon with more inane fanfiction for you. Sayonara, suckers!**

**Oh, and…one more review? For old times' sake?**


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